When I had become to be in my mid high school years, I had a surprising revelation: I had a desire to do something with my life.
The Kingston Trio was/were the model for what I wanted to do/be.
Or at least that was where I wanted to start.
That was in 1959.
*****
I landed at Tan Son Nhut in November of 1966.
I awoke several months later.
I was an intelligence officer, AFSC 8054, briefing officer, at Seventh Air Force Headquarters.
What an opportunity.
Way better than the Trio.
There was this thing we called "the war effort" or, at higher levels: "The Vietnam War".
When I woke up, I noticed that stasis seemed to be the order of the day.
By then we had somewhere around a half million troops, mostly African Americans - except for the officers - and every month or so Lyndon sent more.
Stasis was the optimistic view of things.
While stasis was an accurate description of the state of affairs, it left something out.
All the insurgents who were holding the United States of America in stasis lived there.
We didn't.
Live there.
So, if stasis was the best we could do did that mean that we - the ever increasing 500,000 - would have to be there forever?
And keep increasing?
The troops?
How many?
Ultimately?
To make the world safe for democracy?
Seemed like it must be millions.
Did we have enough African Americans?
So, officers a lot higher than 8054 came up with a plan.
They noticed that Mụ Giạ Pass was the principal entry point into the Ho Chi Minh Trail - the logistical lifeline that moved troops, weapons, and supplies from North Vietnam into Laos and onward to South Vietnam.
By early 1966, 75% of all truck traffic into Laos passed through this single choke point.
By the time I had come to in 1967 that was even more so.
So, said the myriad 8XXXs: "Let's bomb the shit out of 'em."
There were some who said we should cut our losses and get out.
But "let's bomb the shit out of them" won.
And we did.
Bomb the shit out of them.
For weeks and weeks.
Around the clock, twenty-four hours a day we had planes like the old B52 dumping bombs on the center of that enemy supply trail into South Vietnam - Mu Ghia.
It didn't do shit.
They just kept coming.
And after those weeks and weeks the 8034s - the guys who looked at the photo-results said that pissing away the life blood and treasure of America - seemed to be a bad idea.
To keep doing.
So we stopped.
And the war went on.
And one day in 1975 the last helicopter took its last terrified human cargo - somewhere.
That little story should cause one to think that quintupling down on "the war effort" in Iran, our current analog to Vietnam, may be a flawed tactic.
It should be a lesson for trump, but he can't learn.
Even Johnson had to worry about Congress and ask for authorizations.
But since that body has devolved into a band of Tik Tok influencers donnie just does what Laura tells him to do.
So, welcome to AttritionLand.
I always think of Yorktown when I remember this brief, horrible part of my life.
The natives always win.
